


Step by Step

by Niko_Niko_Neek



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: All handled with care, But maybe not, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern Era, Romance, Slow Burn, Some angst but fluff as well, Some themes of mental illness, collage AU, potentially nsfw in later chapters, who tf knows I don't plan any of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niko_Niko_Neek/pseuds/Niko_Niko_Neek
Summary: The scar is still there when he brushes his teeth. He knows, conciously, that it’s going to be there forever, that it’s healed as much as it’s ever going to. As good as it’s gonna get, just like his doctor had stated.Still, there’s a bit of him that irrationally hopes it will vanish. The same part that still hopes his mother might call him. That still hopes his father apologizes. That hopes Katara and her brother will like him. That still hopes things will be fine.It’s been there since he was thirteen, and if he hasn’t managed to squash it out by now, he’s probably never going to. It’s best, like most things, to just learn to live with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kept promising a friend of mine I would eventually get around to writing some Zutara, so here you go. Not entirely sure how long this sucker's gonna be, but we'll see. Hope ya'll enjoy!

Zuko’s hair has finally started to grow back in properly. It had been a considerable amount of time since any hair on the left side of his head would grow at all, leaving him to resort to a variety of hoods and knit hats to see him through the remainder of middle and high school. Then, after the bandages had come off and his condition was essentially pronounced ‘As Good As It’s Gonna Get’, his hair had finally started to make a comeback. Small at first, like many things, a patch of dark fuzz creeping back near his temple. Then, the rest had followed, and now his hair grew so thick and fast that he needed a trim at least once a month, if not sooner.

Azula had not said much when his hair had begun to grow out again. He could only remember her actually commenting on it one time, when she’d been over visiting his apartment to grab a few things before going out shopping. Her eyes had narrowed in their observant, judgemental way and, without a word at first, she’d reached up and fluffed the hair at the top of his head. Finally, she said, “You look like a sheep.”

It was better than nothing, he supposed. Besides, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he’s not so sure she’s wrong.

They’re a strange duo, the pair of them. In photographs, they appeared pristine, even when they’d been very young. They’d never smiled in photographs, but they bore a striking resemblence, from the dark hair to the slanted eyes. Even the way they held themselves seemed to project a quiet confidence-or it had, at least. Even if Azula was now still able to maintain that image, Zuko couldn’t really pretend he was too confident about anything much anymore.

He withdraws from the bathroom, instead crossing to his room to flop on his back into the bed. His whole apartment is worth probably three times his tuition, a roomy flat in Manhattan. He hasn’t decorated much, save for a few plants on the bedside table that he promises himself he won’t let die this time, and a framed photograph of a beach sunset on the wall. Some books. A desk, to do schoolwork. Average collage things.

His phone pings. He expects it to be Azula or one of her friends when he picks it up, but instead finds that it’s a message from his university message board.

Zuko had accepted about a year ago that he couldn’t do in-person classes anymore. It wasn’t as though he suffered with major anxiety or agoraphobia or anything like that. It was just inevitable that, when he would try to take classes, he would inevitably have eyes on him, either in pity or repulsion, and ultimately the soft, fake-concerned question would come: _“How did that happen?”_

The last time someone had asked him that, he’d already been irritated from a long day, and had snapped an impatient response. “Dad held me over the stove. Anyway, great weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Needless to say, he’d accepted that the typical classroom enviorment wasn’t well suited for him. He still showed up for exams and the like, but the majority of his coursework took place online. He liked it better-there was more time to filter yourself when you had to type out everything, and you could use your tech to make everything organized-notifications when things were do, when emails were received, and the like.

This particular notification wasn’t quite so serious. It was from a friend of his.

_‘Hey, have you done the reading yet? I’m this close to clawing my eyes out, deadass.’_

A quiet snort leaves Zuko. He’d never actually spoken with Katara face to face, and honestly preferred it that way. He knew he wasn’t exactly a sociable person, for reasons that had nothing to do with the mark on his face. Besides, online friendships were easy, because you didn’t have to get into them too deeply. Sort of, anyway.

_‘Yes. Are you having trouble?'_ He replied. The typing sign popped up for a few moments. Katara usually responded quickly-it made him wonder whether she spent enough time away from the computer.

_‘U type like a 50-yr old man tbh.’ _

Zuko rolled his eyes.

_‘But yeah, you could say that. I think I got to, like, a third of the way through ch. 3 before I ended up sucked into youtube makeup tutorials.’_

Of all the things to be distracted by, Zuko mused. 

_‘Japanese history can be complicated. If you hold on a moment, I can send you the notes I took.’_

Placing his phone down, he took a moment to rummage through his things. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d sent notes to Katara, but the tradeoff was always that she would have to decipher his handwriting, which was rather jagged and untidy. He had wondered a few times if but had to do with his lack of depth perception, but his writing had been untidy before that too, so maybe it didn’t matter. Either way, he finds the neat summary he had taken on the current Shogun era they were researching, snapped a photograph and sent it over. Predictably, her response is very quick.

_‘I would die for u.’_

That gets another chuckle out of him. How melodramatic.

_‘That won’t be necessary. Seppuku was only for soldiers.’_

_‘Zuko. Who tf uses the word Necessary anymore.’_

_‘Plenty of people.’_

_‘You should come hang out with my brother and I so u can learn how actual people talk.’_

His smile vanishes. It’s not the first time Katara has invited him somewhere, and he has the sinking suspicion that he continues pulling up excuses, she’s going to stop asking. But still, his pulse skyrockets at the thought of an in-person meeting, and not in any romantic way. His hand feel sweaty as he types out a response.

_‘Maybe not this time.’_

_‘I haven’t even told you when, dork.’_

Damn. She’s right, and the fact that he declined her invitation at the first opportunity probably made him sound like a grade-A dick. Swallowing, he tries to fix this assumed perception.

_‘It’s not that I don’t think you’re cool or anything, I’m just-’_

He deletes this, and quickly.

_‘I’m just really busy.’_

Deleted as well. Sighing, he lets his phone rest face down on his chest and stares at his ceiling. He knows the real reason, and it doesn’t have much to do with his fabricated schedule or even the scar that claimed a third of his face.

_People don’t like me_. The words run slowly through his mind, as though displayed on a film real. There was a reason he’d passed through middle and high school with no friends that weren’t primarily Azula’s friends. There was a reason he only had one friend now who wasn’t Ty Lee or Mai. Zuko hadn’t been a pleasant person for a pretty good portion of his life.

His phone buzzes again._‘We’re gonna go hang out and drive around this Saturday. Maybe you can come….Unless you really are a fifty year old man and you lied to me??’_This was followed by a string of eye emojis.

He frowns at the screen, glowing in the evening light. He can almost hear Ty-Lee’s voice in his head, pepping him on. _“Oh my God, say yes!! That’d be sooooo fun for you! I keep telling you that you need to get out more, but since you’re a Leo, you’re probably not gonna listen to me and-”_

He winced. Jeez, even in his head she sounded annoying. Maybe he’d been hanging out with the Azula gang a little too much lately. All they usually did was drag him out shopping, anyway. It still totally escaped his understanding how his sister-who was every bit as dislikable as he was-had managed to obtain not one, but two girlfriends. He was still trying to wrap his head around the polyamory thing, but the three of them seemed pretty happy, so he just kept his mouth shut and entrusted the questions to google when he could.

His phone buzzed again. _‘I can hear u trying to think of an excuse. U can’t run.'_

It’s vaguely threatening. Again, his thumb hovered over the screen. He tried to picture how the meeting might go, him introducing himself and her expression-whatever her face actually looked like-morphing from surprise, to concern, and finally to that sickening pity.

Another buzz. _‘I dare you’___

_ _An aggravated huff through his nose._ _

_ __‘Ok.’_ He presses send before he can delete it._ _

_ _ _‘SICK. Come to campus tomorrow and we’ll show you how the cool kids do it.’_ _ _

_ _Does anyone actually use the term cool kids? Katara does, apparently. Shaking his head, Zuko responds._ _

_ _ _‘I need to drive my sister to an appointment around eleven, but I’m free after that.’_ _ _

_ _So that’s that, then. For a second, he wonders if he should brag about this social accomplishment. His phone contacts aren’t long enough to scroll through, but he takes a quick look._ _

_ _Azula-Like she’d care._ _

_ _Mei-Probably would just leave him on read, she rarely responded to any texts unless somebody was dying._ _

_ _Ty-Lee was out of the question. He’d instantly be assaulted with an all-caps paragraph about his fun and exciting it would be, how this was somehow the perfect time to begin new relationships because mercury was in Gatorade or something like that, followed by a string of every emoji from the hearts to the can-can dancers. _ _

_ _Then, there was a different name. For a moment, he opens up the chat message between himself and his mother. Looks like the last time they’d talked was when she’d sent him a Happy Birthday text._ _

_ _ _‘You’re growing up so fast. I’m so proud of you.’_ _ _

_ _He’d been maybe fourteen. He remembered that year, too._ _

_ _The divorce between his parents had virtually very element required for it to be as unpleasant as possible. Firstly, there was kids involved. Second, there was potential abuse. Third, Ozai had a ridiculous amount of money, and was willing to use it in order to win. Custody battles had been through the roof, and Zuko had been brought in over and over again to describe the same exact things and answer the same exact questions._ _

_ _ _Has your father ever hit you? What about your mother? Did your parents often say bad things about each other in front of you? Did they fight frequently? Ever throw things?_ _ _

_ _His head spun just thinking about it. Azula had been just barely old enough to understand what was going on, and even she had been dragged in, because custody had been a matter of pride to Ozai._ _

_ _He hadn’t wanted his kids. He’d just wanted to say he had them._ _

_ _It’s too early to go to bed-a glance at the digital clock reveals it’s only nine-but Zuko can’t really think of anything else to do. Besides, if he was going to actually be social for the first time in about six years, he should probably rest up and prep for it._ _

_ _The scar is still there when he brushes his teeth. He knows, conciously, that it’s going to be there forever, that it’s healed as much as it’s ever going to. As good as it’s gonna get, just like his doctor had stated._ _

_ _Still, there’s a bit of him that irrationally hopes it will vanish. The same part that still hopes his mother might call him. That still hopes his mother apologizes. That hopes Katara and her brother will like him. That still hopes things will be fine._ _

_ _It’s been there since he was thirteen, and if he hasn’t managed to squash it out by now, he’s probably never going to. It’s best, like most things, to just learn to live with it._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He is having an absolute crisis about what sweater he should wear._

He is having an absolute crisis about which sweater he should wear.

On the surface, it seems like such an easy decision-does he wears his red one or his black one? Both are virtually identical, with the fabric being soft on his skin and no annoying tags to itch the back of his neck. He’s tried both on ad nauseam, pulling one over his head, smoothing it down, looking at the mirror, removing that one for the other one, and repeat.

_You’re going to be late,_ he tells himself. _You’re going to be late over a stupid sweater. Just make a goddamn choice._

Frustration tightens his jaw and he finally throws on the red one and tears himself away from the mirror, the apartment door closing firmly behind him. A second later, it opens again, and he snatches up his phone and leaves for good.

The air is cold outside-once the sun went down at this time of year, any semblance of warmth gone for the time being. He walks by the coffee shop and wishes that he’d brought his coat, though the walk to campus is a short one and he’ll be in a car soon, anyway. The prospect of what Katara meant by ‘driving around’ is enough to make him a little bit nervous, but he figures that’s just his brain being irrational. What did you do what you drove around, anyway? Was that really just it?”

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he unlocks it to find a text from Katara. 

_'So u don’t run off with some other pair of weirdos'_

Attached is a photo of two people, whom he assumes to be her and her older brother. The resemblance is actually striking-their eye color and hair color is the same, though the boys is darker, and his face is thinner. Katara is holding up a peace sign while Sokka is pulling a weird face. Both are brown-skinned, and they both seem to be on campus already.

He pockets his phone and draws a steadying breath. They both look so normal that it’s unsettling. One hand is brought to his hair, ruffling it uneasily. He’ll be fine. He was already halfway there, and they were both expecting him. It was too late to turn back now. If things ended up really bad, he could just make an excuse and-

“Sokka, there is no feasible way that Glinda isn’t a princess. She has a _literal_ fucking crown in the movie.”

“No, that’s-that’s literally her title though! A good witch! Princess or queen or whatever isn’t even mentioned.”

“_She has a crown!”_

Zuko halts in his tracks. He’s been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he arrived to the concrete plaza without realizing it, and the two siblings are arguing just a short distance away. It occurs to him that they have no idea what he looks like, and he’s going to have to walk over and introduce himself.

He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and subconsciously straightens his back. _You can do this._

Katara whacks her brother on the arm as the two continue the hot debate on Wizard of Oz, though it dies off when Zuko approaches. Katara regards him with a quirked brow, face shifting quickly back to a reserved politeness.

She’s stunning in appearence, but he tucks that thought away to be examined never.

“.....Hey. Um.” He lifts one hand in an awkward attempt at a wave. “Zuko, here.”

Katara’s brow furrows for a moment before her expression lights up. She looks happy to see him.

“You’re Zuko? You’re a _giant._” Indeed, she stands several inches shorter than him, to where she has to incline her head a bit to make eye contact. “That’s not fair at all. I wouldn’t have invited you if I was outnumbered.”

For a second he wonders if she’s serious, but the thought diffuses when she reaches up to give him a hug, which lasts about two seconds. His arms hover, and thankfully it’s over before it becomes clear that he doesn’t know how to respond to it.

“It’s nice to put a face to a name! Sokka, this is the guy who’s always saving my ass in History.”

The older boy has an air of coolness just from appearance, probably due to his unique hairstyle and the glint of two rings in the cartilage of his left ear. Sokka folds his arms. “He _does_ kinda look like a nerd.”

“Um.” Zuko isn’t at all sure how to respond.

Sokka grins. “I’m just giving you shit, dude. Good to see ya,” he adds with a pat to Zuko’s shoulder that’s strong enough to make his knees buckle from the sudden pressure.

Neither of them have mentioned his scar. He saw Katara’s eyes flicker to it briefly, but her expression hadn’t changed, and Sokka didn’t seem to notice it at all. If anything, he’s putting far more thought into it than they have.

“Wait, wait a second.” Katara holds up a hand and narrows her eyes, this time looking at Zuko’s face with a long degree of scrutiny. 

Here it comes. The questions. The fake sympathy. He steels himself.

“....Your sister’s Azula, right? She looks like you but with weird sideburns.”

It catches him so off guard that he nearly laughs. “Yeah-yeah, she’s my younger sister.”

“Dude.” The three begin to walk to the parking lot, but not before Katara lays a hand on his arm and shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I fucking hated her since, like, freshman year. Don’t take offense, though, okay?”

This does make him laugh, even if it’s more just a sharp exhale of air through his nose. “None taken. She can be, uh ...Difficult to get along with.”

“Uh, yeah. Remember when you accidentally spilled a whole thing of ketchup on her Valentino white bag, Sokka? Oh my God, I was already planning your funeral.”

“Just play something by Red Hot Chili Peppers and we’re good,” Sokka replies.

Sokka’s car is the ugliest thing Zuko has ever seen. He knows it’s a mean though, but the thing is a beaten up van with what seems to be an attempted paintjob done with spraypaint in an uneven black strip down the side. Rust is gathering on the front bumper. Upon opening the side door, Zuko spots a few old french fries still lying on the carpet.

“Sorry about my brother being an actual pig,” Katara calls back to him from the front seat.

“They’re snacks for later,” Sokka replies, making Katara wrinkle her nose in disgust. Zuko ducks his head to hide a smile. The stereo flares to light and the steady wail of Ariana Grande fills the van.

“Do we have to?” Sokka groans.

“If I’m not driving, I get the music.” Katara turns herself in her seat to regard Zuko. “Unless our guest wants the aux chord?”

The only thing on his phone is classical music and Naruto lo-fi remixes. He shakes his head, quickly. “That’s okay.”

“Thank you for respecting my rights, Zuko.”

He’s not entirely sure what she means by that but he’s happy to be a passenger for now.

As it turns out, driving with Katara and Sokka entails a whole number of things. Firstly, music is always involved, usually Katara’s choice, which consists of a great deal of pop. Secondly, it involves McDonalds, wherin Zuko was given a happy meal despite insisting he wasn’t hungry. And third, it involves no real plan at all.

Being in the back seat gives him an excuse to be quiet, though the siblings do involve him in conversation pretty frequently, whether it’s getting his opinion on the newest Star Wars (Katara hates it, Sokka thinks the effects were decent,) attempting to get him on a side in a playful argument which gets all too serious (Zuko still isn’t sure whether or not Glinda is a Queen or simply a Witch,) or otherwise. They navigate down roads on the outskirts of the city to try and escape traffic, which so often seems inescapable, and when Sokka suggests walking to the nearby park, they get out and walk.

Katara is not one to be fussed over physical contact. She throws an arm around her brother, grabs Zuko’s wrist to get him to dart across the crosswalk even though the red hand is facing them, reaches up to muss both their hair. When Zuko makes a dry quip about one of their professors, Katara throws her head back and laughs, loudly.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

It’s a fascination about someone being so distinctly unafraid to take up space.

He wonders if he should come to campus more often.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time he sees her, it’s at a party he doesn’t want to go to.

Truth be told, he isn’t sure what the occasion is. Midterms are starting to creep closer, and Zuko’s anxiety is mounting just as steadily as the dates pass. The inclination to just withdraw and spend all his time pouring over schoolwork is seductive, and it’s not until Ty-Lee promises him a whole box of her special cherry pastries that he relents. Mostly because cherry is his favorite, and even Azula admits that you can’t get much better than the ones Ty-Lee makes.

The party is at the house of someone he doesn’t know, for the birthday of someone else he doesn’t know. The music coming from outside already makes his stomach knot. Himself, Azula, Mei and Ty Lee exit the car. Ty-Lee is quick to let out a celebratory whoop and tug her girlfriends to the front door, Mei grumbling and Azula approaching with an air of carefully composed perfection.

Oddly, the house inside wasn’t too busy. There’s a girl with dark hair pulled back into a bun, conversing deeply with a boy her age sporting a buzzcut and an alarmingly fluffy dog.They’re both seated on a couch on the ground floor, just by the entrance. It takes a steadying breath and courage for Zuko to come forward and ask to pet it.

“Yeah, of course!” Zuko blinks at the sound of the kid’s voice-it’s unexpectedly high, high enough that he’s not sure if the kid should be at a college party. “Appa loves everybody.”

The dog-Appa-seems to fit the description, licking and sniffing up eagerly at Zuko’s face. A faint smile comes to his face as he scratches the animal’s ears.

“What kind is he?”

“He’s a Samoyd,” the kid replies. “And I’m Aang. Toph and I are first years here!’

His sheer pleased voice is equal parts compelling and repulsive. Zuko decides he likes Aang, though-he seems quite genuine.

“Who’s the guy, Aang? He sounds kinda stuffy.”

The girl, however, does not share his attitude.

“He’s Zuko, and I would’ve invited him over to get ready with us if he hadn’t been a jerk and told me he was coming.”

The amused voice and sudden pressure on his shoulder makes his heart skip from the sudden appearance. Katara is here, and has seen fit to rest her chin on his shoulder a second before lightly smacking the back of his head and going to sit beside Toph.

“No way.” The girl called Toph sits up and, though her face is in his direction her eyes drift to level just over his shoulder. “That’s the cute history guy you were telling me about, right?”

“Not in those words.” Katara corrects, perhaps a little too quickly. It strikes Zuko suddenly that, as much as he attempts to meet Toph’s eyes, he can’t seem to do it. Noting his confusion. Aang is quick to explain.

“Toph’s blind.”

“It only took you all of high school to figure out?” The sarcasm in Toph’s voice reminds him faintly of Azula, thought a little less mean. “You’re smarter than I thought, Twinkle-toes.”

Zuko’s brow arches. “Twinkle..?”

“Aang did ballet through high school,” Katara pats the spot on the couch beside her, indicating that Zuko should come sit with them. “He was really good, actually.”

“I’ve never heard of a guy doing ballet,” Zuko says. “You must’ve been pretty confident.”

Aang shrugs. “I was okay.”

It’s strange, being in the middle of them all. He’s sitting between Katara and Toph, feeling like he’s being too rigid with them all lounging around. Appa’s head is resting on his knee, expecting more attention. Voices filter in around him, referencing events he wasn’t there for and inside jokes he wasn’t part of, but Katara brings him back into the conversation at random points. 

It’s strange. He feels like they’re friends already. And, at the same time, he feels like a stranger.

Azula approaches him at one point to hand him a drink, and he is instantly worried. However, she merely fixes them all with a look of utter distain, rolls her eyes, and departs again.

“What was that?” Toph demands. “I just felt like the room dropped ten degrees. Was there a ghost? There better have been a ghost.”

Zuko grins despite himself. “Just Azula.”

Beside him, Katara groans and bonks her forehead against his shoulder. “What the fuck was that look dude? Was she stripping me in her imagination or trying to rip off my skin telepathically?”

That makes him laugh so hard that he actually folds forward and spits out most of his drink. “She’s-she’s dating Mei and Ty-Lee. She was probably just trying to scare you.”

“No kidding?” Aang pops up this time. “Geez, Zuko, how come your mom lets you guys have two girlfriends?”

Zuko shakes his head. He’s still grinning. “I don’t even have one.”

“No way.” Katara looks at him rather incredulously. “If my brother, who is essentially the walking embodiment of Spencer from iCarly, can somehow land a long-term relationship, there has got to be hope for you.”

Zuko is about to ask what iCarly is when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He withdraws it, expecting it to be one of the girls, but freezes when Ozai’s name appears on the top of the screen.

That’s what he is, in Zuko’s phone. Not Dad. Ozai.

“I, uh.” He can feel himself go pale. “I’ve gotta go and, um...and take-take this.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Aang’s voice is somewhat quiet with concern.

“Fine. Fine, just…” Zuko rises to his feet. Thankfully, the bathroom is unoccupied, and he locks the door behind him.

He doesn’t have to answer. He tries to remind himself of that, remembering Iroh’s last conversation with him. There was a no-contact order, and that had broken when Zuko was eighteen, but even then, he doesn’t have to answer. Not if he doesn’t want to.

But if he doesn’t…

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

_“Zuko.” _the voice is clipped and as emotionless, even through the phone, as it’s always been. _“Where are you?”_

His mouth goes dry. “I’m at-”

_No. Remember what Iroh said. Iroh and your therapist. You’re an adult._

“Why does it matter?”

_“Well, I generally visit you on weekends, don’t I? My driver is at your apartment waiting. Have you any idea how inconsiderate that is, to just leave him parked there for fifteen minutes without any notice?”_

His head spins. “When...When did you arrange-?”

A short, frustrated sigh comes through the phone. _“Never mind. All I’ll say, Zuko, is that your sister never forgot dates. You, however, don’t seem to care enough.”_

“I don’t-”

_“Don’t bother. It’s cancelled.”_

A click. Zuko feels the world tunnel in.

Then, he vomits into the toilet.

\---

It’s Azula that finds him, eventually. He’d been sitting in the bathtub waiting for his shaking to calm down-which it hadn’t-when she’d evidently been frustrated enough with the locked door that she’d gotten the spare key from the host. She knows better than to ask questions, merely puts a cold hand on the back of his neck-which actually feels somewhat nice-and prepares to steer him out of the door.

Katara stops them, for a moment.

“Hey, Zuko, where did you run off to? Are you okay?”

“He’s sick.” Azula’s voice could freeze lava. 

“Oh. Is there anything-”

“Don’t bother.” Azula is quick to shut her down, and next thing Zuko is aware of, he and his sibling are sitting on the curb outside.

The stars are out. The faint sound of crickets and muffled music are the only noises for a while. Azula is sitting next to him, and he can tell she’s trying to figure out what to say. How to sound sympathetic.

“So, what happened?”

Good enough. Zuko swallows.

“Dad called me.”

That gets her attention. Azula looks at him, his brows lifting in surprise. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Zuko replies, truthfully. He reaches up, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I don’t know what he wants.”

Beside him, Azula sighs. “Who does?” She says, at length. “Incredible. Of course he pulls this shit on you and not me. Because he knows I’d steal his credit card.”

“You already stole his credit card once, Azula.”

“Yeah, because he referred to my mania as an ‘excellent work ethic.’” Her fingers trace quotation marks. “Fucker. And he knows you’re scared of him still. You should just block him and be done with it, Zuko. That’s what I did.”

“We can’t all be you, Azula.” His voice comes out more biting than he means.

“.....Whatever. I’m taking you back home.”

\---

His phone lights up three more times when he’s trying to fall asleep.

_Katara: Hey! Are you okay?_

_Hmu when you feel better._

_We’re all out here thinking of u._

He rolls over and silences his phone.

He appreciates the gesture, but he finds it very hard to believe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been a hot minute! College has begun again. Hopefully I'll still be updating with relative frequency.

_His stomach twists itself in intricate knots. He has been standing in the same spot for what must have been ten minutes, in his flannel pajamas with the dragons on them. Downstairs, the sound of shouting voices filters upwards and permeates everything, just as it has for three nights in a row. He knows that if he draws attention to himself his father will lecture him._

_“You’re almost five. Why are you still afraid of monsters?”_

_He could try for his mother, but that would be worse. She was already crying, and if he told her he was scared, she would do that big pity-sigh and assure him again that his closet was empty._

_He was supposed to start school tomorrow, at some private kindergarten his father had pay for. Zuko wanted to take Azula with him, but she’s still too little-she can’t even talk or dress herself yet. Still, the prospect of entering a new and strange place where nobody knew who he was is terrifying. Surely, if he just tells his mother he wants to stay home, she would be alright with that? She was so lonely, anyway. If he stayed, he could help entertain Azula when she fussed by dropping some of his softer toys into her crib. He could climb into his mother’s lap when she cried._

\----------------------------

The wind is howling against the window when Zuko wakes up, and he stares at his ceiling and listens. He hasn’t had a dream where he was that little in a very long time.

He doesn’t actually dream that much at all, anymore, which is probably a good thing. He’d used to have vivid dreams with all sorts of fantastical creatures in them, but they were usually either screaming at him or trying to eat him. He’d had the worst time sleeping ever since he was little-he could remember his mother commenting that it was the only issue she’d ever had with him at that age. He’d stayed scared of things under the bed until he was about eight or ten, and by that time, Azula was old enough to make fun of him for it.

After he’d gotten the scar, the nightmares had started again, and they were always the same.

It was evening, and his father had already been drinking. Zuko had been old enough by then to know better than to disturb Ozai when he was like that, but he’d already postponed getting his field trip permission signed until the very last minute. The paper was creased slightly from how tightly he’d been holding it.

It’ll be fast, he told himself. In and out, and then I’m done.

If the scent of sake hadn’t been a dead giveaway, then as soon as he’d opened the door to his father’s office, his heart plummeted to his feet. On the desktop screen was a skype call with a white-haired man on the front. Azulon, Zuko’s grandfather and his father’s boss. Ozai’s eyes weren’t bloodshot, but they were as cold and hard as pure flint.

“.....D-Dad?” Zuko managed.

Three things happened. First, Ozai looked at him, a cold and long stare. Next, he turned back to the call. “I’m sorry. This will just be a moment.” There was a small electronic noise as the video call ended. Then, Ozai had stood. By then, Zuko was already trying to muster the courage to run.

He had not been fast enough.

Zuko turned in his bed, curling his knees to his chest. He found himself wishing Azula was there, even though all she would probably do would be to spend time on her phone in the front room. It wouldn’t have mattered-another person’s presence might have given him the strength to snap out of this.

She wasn’t there; she’d gone home. He would have to get a grip by himself.

Outside, the window howled again, and a few distant thuds and bangs were audible. Zuko could feel his pulse hammering in his chest. His mouth was bone dry. He would have to call Iroh. His fingers clenched into a fist on his bedsheets, and he sat upright. A wave of dizziness hits him when he does, and it’s by sheer muscle memory that he reaches for his phone and finds Iroh’s number. His thumb hovers over the screen. It’s late at night-IRoh will probably be asleep.

The call button feels a million miles away.

He told you to call him whenever it’s bad like this. Just do it.

With a frustrated exhale, Zuko punches the green call button and brings the phone to his ear. The phone rings once, twice...Up to five times before Iroh’s voice sounds. It’s sleepy and muffled, but filled with a familiar warmth that goes straight to Zuko’s chest.

“A late time to be up, Nephew. Haven’t I told you about the benefits a good night’s rest can bring?”

His shoulders relax. “Hi, Uncle. I’m sorry to wake you up.” He realizes he’s still gripping his covers and forces his hand to relax. “...How are you?”

There’s a pause as Iroh considers the question. That’s the thing about Iroh-he takes each thing, even small talk, seriously. “Well, I was having a very strange dream. In it, I was a goldfish who lived in a little stream, and I swam past some Koi, who were my friends. I beleive I was looking for something, but...Now, I’m afraid I can’t remember. But, that is life.”

Zuko lies back down on his side, his gaze resting forward in the darkness. His Uncle’s voice has an oddly relaxing quality, the accent pure Hyogo. “I hope you figure out what you were looking for.”

“I hope so, too. But, Zuko, I don’t think you called to hear about my fish dreams. What is wrong?”

Zuko pauses for a moment. “....Father called me today.”

“And what did he want?” A slight note of skepticism creeps into his Uncle’s voice. Despite his situation, a bitter smile appears on Zuko’s face.

“To scare me.”

A warm laugh sounds from the other end of the phone. “He is good at that. I remember when my brother was still young. If other students at school weren’t acting in the way he wanted, he would terrorize them. I suppose he has always been that way.”

It’s not a subject Zuko wants to be any expert on. 

“Just remember, Zuko. A person can only truly control themselves. Now that your father is realizing he is no longer in a position where he can control you, he will try more and more to make you afraid of him. When that happens, just call me, and I will help you.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“In fact, why don’t you come to the shop tomorrow morning? I find there’s nothing quite like a hot cup of tea to banish any lingering nightmares.”

Normally, Zuko would refuse, but tonight is different. “I’ll come by and help you open.”

“I appreciate that, Zuko. Sleep well.”

“I will.”

And, surprisingly, he does.

\---------

His uncle’s store has been around since after he was scarred. It’s a passion project that Iroh would talk for days on end about when it was the process of being opened. Zuko could still remember that bright day, mostly because he’d had a migrane due to the light, and wasn’t feeling in a very festive mood. Iroh had placed a hand on his shoulder as the two looked up to the green lettering on the front of the store.

“Ever since your father and I came here to America,” Iroh said, “I have had dreams of making my own tea for the people here. This is something I have wanted all of my life.”

Zuko couldn’t remember what he’d said in response-no doubt it had been something rude and dismissive. Now, as he stands in front of the Jasmine Dragon, he cringes at the recollection.

He’d been so….Angry back then. At everyone.

The faint tinkle of the bell signals his entrance, the recording of soft, traditional music filtering in through the small speakers. Iroh is working today, along with Jin, who’d been working as a server there for about two years. She distinctly avoids looking at Zuko, which he can’t blame her for. They’d had a date a long time ago, and he’d….Well, there was no nice way to put it. He’d ghosted her.

“Zuko!” His uncles voice is loud, but carries a gentle, sing-song quality. “Perfect. I am developing a new brew for respiratory health, and you must try it for me.

Taking his normal seat at the bar next to the window, Zuko flashes Iroh a small smile. “Alright, Uncle. As long as I don’t end up allergic this time.”

“I don’t use ginseng root anymore. Don’t worry.”

Iroh hurries off to the back, where all the hot water and blends were. Zuko decides to busy himself with watching the rain out of the window. A few people are passing by with umbrellas, some college students like him, others older adults with thinning hair or beards. A few step in puddles gathering in the sidewalk outside. One girl actually jumps in one.

….And it’s a girl he knows.

His eyebrows raise as Katara catches his eyes on the other side of the glass, and immediately waves. A second later, the bell at the shop door jingles once again.

“Zuko, hey!” Her umbrella is dripping a little, but she leans it carefully next to the door, which he knows his uncle will appreciate. “I didn’t know you came in here. I always end up here to do last minute homework.”

Zuko shakes his head. “Impossible. I would’ve seen you. This is my uncle’s place.”

“You’re kidding.” Katara pulls up the chair beside his. “God, I’m jealous. You just get free tea all the time.”

“Sometimes.”

“My Nephew and his friends are always welcome here. Particularly seeing as he does not have all that many.”

A warm voice comes from behind him as Iroh sets a pot and two cups on the table, along with a small plate of green tea cookies. Zuko feels his face flush with embarrassment.

“Of course, if the young lady is more than a friend, I must apologize for any rudeness in my assumptions.”

_“Uncle.”_

Katara, however, takes it in stride. “He wishes,” she replies with a grin. “Thank you for the tea, though.”

“Absolutely.” Iroh gives a polite smile. “Please, enjoy it, and come to see me afterwards to tell me how your lungs are feeling.”

Katara waits until Iroh’s back is turned to fix Zuko with an incredulous look. He shrugs.

“New blend he’s trying out. So far he’s tried ones for financial luck, concentration, clarity of thought, romantic success…”

Katara;s eyes gleam with mischief. “Sounds like you need some of that.”

Zuko scowls. “You’re not even funny.”

“I’m hilarious.” Katara takes the liberty of pouring herself a cup, bringing it to her lips and inhaling the steam. “I’m happy I ran into you, though. Aang’s been pestering me non stop to see if you’re okay.”

His brow furrows. “I only just met him.”

“Yeah, but that’s Aang. I think he was a monk in a past life. He’s all compassion, worried about everyone.” She takes a sip of tea. “I figured you were okay.”

“Yeah. I just, um…” He swallows. “I got sick.”

Katara nods. “Yeah, it looked like it. No wonder I found you in here. Sokka would always bring me tea after an anxiety thing.”

Zuko stares.

“What?” Katara sets her cup down. “Just because I look flawless doesn’t mean I am. Well...I am most of the time,” she amends before shaking her head. “No, but I used to have a big issue with that in high school. It’s gotten a lot better since. I rarely have problems with it anymore.”

He wants to ask, but she has respected him enough not to ask about him, so Zuko keeps his mouth shut. “....I haven’t had one that bad in a while,” he admits, holding his cup in both hands. The porcelain warms his palms. “I almost forgot how much they suck.”

“Right? They’re the worst. I would have them, like, once a week, after my mom passed.”

His response is reflexive. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was pretty young. I still miss her, like, all the time, but…” She shrugs. Zuko’s gaze lingers on her face.

“What was her name?”

A smile, small, appears on Katara’s face. It makes Zuko’s chest hurt. “Kya.”

He looks back out of the window after a moment, watching a few more raindrops track down the glass. “That’s a nice name.”

“What’s your mom’s?”

His chest constricts, a little painful, but it isn’t from panic. He remembers a soft voice. A smile.

“Ursa.”

This time, he can feel that Katara is the one looking at him. “Did you two argue, or…?”

He takes another sip of his tea. 

“....It’s a little complicated.”

Katara moves her chair a fraction closer to his, enough so that their shoulders touch. That’s all the contact there is, but it makes him freeze a little where he sits.

“I hope you get to see her soon. That’s not something you should ever take for granted.”

“...No. I guess not.”

Outside, the rain falls.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a fun time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a very long time since my last update, and I appreciate everyone's patience. I believe I have a better idea of where I'd like to go with this fic. Thanks for all your comments, and I hope everyone is staying safe!!

As it turns out, walking Appa is an incredibly difficult task. Every five paces or so, he would see something or another that would be exciting to him, and Zuko would have to lean back with all of his weight to resist being dragged along by his arm across the busy city street to get to...A squirrel, or another dog or something.

It’s beyond him how Aang manages. Not only is the boy smaller than him, he’s a good deal slighter. It’s pretty obvious why Toph calls him ‘Twinkle Toes’-he moves like a dancer, even if he’s doing something as simple as walking with Zuko through the streets towards Toph’s house. On top of that, he seems to greet each day with a quiet happiness, one that Zuko finds himself envious of.

“He’s going to rip my arm off,” Zuko grumbles.

“No, he won’t! He’s just happy to be here.” Indeed, Appa sure looks happy-his pink tongue is hanging out despite the fall air being a little cold. “Here, I’ll take him.”

He hands the leash back to Aang with a distinct sense of relief. 

He’s mostly following Aang-hes been going over to Toph’s house since he was pretty young, and Zuko’s never been. However, the subtle shift from basic suburb to full-on estates was almost alarming. Steadily, the houses started to get bigger, the lawns larger and more immaculate. It wasn't until they walked past a house with a full on decorative stream and waterfall that Zuko piped up.

“Where did you say she lived again?”

Aang smiles a little sheepishly. “She doesn’t really like to bring it up. I think she’s embarrassed. But her parents have a lot of money.”

“No kidding.” That was surprising-nothing new to Zuko, with his own background, but he hadn’t pegged Toph as someone who came from money. All the kids he’d gone to private school with had been as immaculate as dolls in a store-perfectly positioned with expensive shoes and carefully worded comments. Toph dressed like an extra in an Avril Lavigne music video.

He comes to an all out stop when he sees Aang turn up and start casually strolling up a paved walkway, as though he’d done so thousands of times before. The house towered over them, built in dark colored stone-two garages, at least five windows that he could see. The walkway was lined perfectly with shrubs and….Was that a straight up pool and gazebo in the back?

“Aang.” he says flatly. “This is a mansion. Toph owns a mansion?”

“My parents own a mansion,” a sly voice corrects him. Toph is standing in the front doorway. “And they’re off doing business in China or something, which means I’m running this joint. Come in, take your shoes off. Or don’t, I won’t really be able to tell.”

Zuko had a funny feeling she would, but slipped his sneakers off at the entryway regardless.

Aang has already made himself at home, lying on his back on a section of the massive couch in the living room. Zuko, however, never knows where to stand in a new place, and hovers near the front hallway. He moves his hands into his pockets, then clasps them in front of him, then behind his back.

“Do you relax? Ever? Is that something you’re able to do?” Toph pipes up from her seat on the carpet, giving Appa some attention. Aang laughs, and Zuko’s face heats up. 

“Yeah,” he replies, and definitely finds a seat on the couch near Aang’s feet. Toph’s house is huge, but it’s also incredibly empty-feeling. He doesn’t see any family pictures up on the walls aside from a very stiff-looking family portrait. The sight brings a smirk to his face. Guess that was just an obligatory rich-kid thing.

Toph, who has risen from her seat on the floor, calls over to him from the kitchen. “Y’all want snacks?”

“I-”

Zuko barely has any time to respond before a bag of Lays hits him in the face. Aang’s bag goes wide, though-she was probably able to tell where Zuko was by his voice, but Aang must have been harder. His strikes the wall.

“Good try, Toph!” Aang says brightly.

“I missed? Fuck.”

…..It’s a little startling to hear Toph swear, but also makes complete sense, somehow.

It’s then that Zuko realizes the incredibly elaborate setup near the TV-every manner of console available. He’s already itching to give one of them a shot, but there’s a nagging question.

“Cool games, Toph,” he begins. “But...How, uh, exactly-”

“How do I play?” She crunches a mouthful of chips with a grin. “It’s actually not bad. Aang usually helps me get used to the controls, so I count and memorize the order to get to them. Everything else is kinda by sound. I use this headset so I can hear where everything’s coming from.”

Zuko blinks. “....That’s really impressive, actually.”

“It’ll be more impressive when I kick both of your asses.” She takes a seat on the couch between them and, casually, rests both of her feet on Zuko’s legs. “Go ahead. Pick one. Doesn’t matter which one.”

He picks Mario Kart first. Toph wins five rounds straight. Then, he picks Call of Duty-maybe it was a little mean spirited, but he thought a first person shooter might be hard. Wrong again-she snipes him three times in a row. Aang, meanwhile, just hides.

“I don’t want to shoot anyone,” he complains. “What’ve they ever done to me?”

“Its a _game,_ Ticht Nacht Han,” Toph replies, rolling her eyes. Zuko isn’t sure where she’d learned to do that.

As it generally turned out, when you hung out with one or two of the gang, as Sokka referred to their group, you would wind up hanging out with all of them over the course of the day. Katara and Sokka wandered in just in time to witness Zuko getting entirely wrecked at Street Fighter.

“You tried,” Katara comments with sympathy, as she snags the last controller.

As it turns out, the only one who can sometimes beat Toph is Katara-and she gets mad easily. They’ve abandoned the games for Toph’s personal safety and were in the process of watching strange videos Sokka had found on YouTube when Zuko’s phone buzzed.

Panic hits him in a jolt, but it was just Azula.

_Ty-Lee wants to go shopping. You’re obligated to come with._

He frowned. Shopping with Ty-Lee was a multidimensional and multi-hour experience, one that he was not spiritually prepared for. _She’s your girlfriend_, he responds. _You take her._

_1)-You have the car with enough room for myself, Ty, and all of the bags. 2)-Ty-Lee will be sad if you don’t show up. This is entirely disallowed by me._

_I’d rather die, tbh._

_I can arrange that, too._

He groans, but he knows it’s over. Once Azula hits him with a list, that’s generally the end of it. Even if he didn’t respond, he knew she would pull up in Ty’s pink abomination of a car and drag him in kicking and screaming.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Zuko said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Azula needs some help on a...Shopping expedition.”

Toph gags violently. However, a downright mischievous glint enters Katara’s eyes. 

“Hey Zuko, can I come?”

His brow furrows. “...Why?”

“I can’t meet your sister? Provide you with a bit of sanity during the mission?” 

He stares. Eventually, she sighs. “Fine, I wanted to try and get her to buy me shit.”

This actually makes him laugh. “It won’t work.”

“Well, you’re my backup. C’mon.” She’s already standing, and tugging him up by the arm. “We have a duty to attend to.”

The prospect of crossing his relatively newfound friends with the...Strange dynamic with his family is something Zuko vehemently wishes to avoid. But, he calms himself by repeating over and over again that Ty Lee would be there. She was nice to everyone, and when Azula was with her, she was about fifty percent less scathing. That was as good of a scenario as he could ask for.

\------------------------

The Central shopping mall is a best unto itself. It’s large enough to get lost in (and Zuko has, several times), and the majority of passerby arrived to look rather than to purchase. 

Not Ty-Lee, though. She was there to purchase.

The girls had been waiting on the curb outside of Zuko’s apartment, and Azula arches a finely penciled eyebrow in regards to Katara’s presence. “You brought your girlfriend?” she inquires.

“Not my girlfriend,” Zuko replies. It seems like he’s had to make that distinction a lot, lately. Ty-Lee, on the other hand, climbs right into the back seat beside Katara.

“Oh my god, it’s so nice to finally meet you!! I’m Ty-Lee! Zuko and I knew each other way before he moved here.” She extends a hand, but when Katara shakes it, she simple takes it between both of her own, as though they have known each other for years.

“I’ve heard a lot about you!! Aren’t you Sokka’s sister? Oh my God, he’s super cute-like, you know, in another life maybe, sorta thing? Wow, that top is adorable. You have to tell me where you got it! Oh, and what’s your sign? Do you know your sign?”

Zuko had to muffle a snicker. Katara would be getting the full Ty-Lee experience on this trip.

Once they began walking to the entrance, Azula was all business, heels clicking across the parking lot, Ty-Lee happily holding onto her arm. She was chattering non-stop, with Azula responding here and there with a nod or a few sentences. They might’ve looked odd together from the passerby’s perspective, but Zuko knew his sister well enough to note the gentle attentiveness to which she listened to Ty-Lee’s ramblings. That wasn’t reserved for anyone else-even with Mai, the dynamic was different. Loving and stable, but different.

“So that’s Ty,” Zuko commented, flashing Katara a grin.

Katara still seemed to be somewhat shell-shocked from the onslaught of questions in the car. It takes her a moment to respond.

“....She’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of love her though. She’s like...You wouldnt have had this experience, but whenever you go to a bar bathroom, there’s usually another drunk girl who will hype you up every time. Ty Lee just seems to be like that always? Which I’m kind of into”

It’s a fair enough summation, Zuko thinks.

Sadly, their first encounter is with the beauty department, which Zuko is beyond uninterested in. Katara tags along, though, so he has to follow and ensure everything is going well. The three girls find their own areas of interest and all seems well...Until Azula catches sight of Katara with some products she must not have approved of.

“....Excuse me, Kassandra-”

“Katara. It’s not hard.”

Azula blinks. “...Whatever. But, what...What exactly is that?”  
Katara holds out the products for Azula to examine. “Five bucks, that’s what they are.”

“That’s..” Azula blinks, and seems to have to take a steadying breath. “That isn’t going to work. That...That is not going to work. Put that back.”

“Why?”

“Because it….” Azula makes some kind of vague hand gesture. “No. No, that’s not what we’re going to be doing. Follow me. If I’m going to be seen in public with you on a semi-regular basis, we need to get you set up.”

The three emerge not too long later, with Zuko having given up and waiting outside on a bench. Katara, he notices, looks far too proud of herself.

“Played it.” Katara announces under her breath, holding a bag of MAC products aloft. “You know who your sister reminds me of? You know Meryl Streep in Devil Loves Prada-”

_“Stop.”_

Thankfully, the next and final destination (surprising for Ty Lee-she must not be in her usual fevor.) was a clothing store. A distinctly expensive clothing store.

“I’m hearing Seven Rings in my head right now,” Katara leans up to mutter to Zuko as they enter.

He briefly checks out a leather jacket before deciding it had too many zippers. Azula, meanwhile, is probably planning to get something for Mei (Zuko almost recommends Hot Topic before deciding that Azula would kill him). It isn’t long, however, before Ty-Lee accosts Katara.

“Hi!” She says, though says isn’t really the proper word. She more sings it. “So, like, you’re gonna let me dress you, right?”

Katara blinks. “Do I have a choice in the matter?”

“Nope!!” With that, Ty-Lee grabs Katara’s hand and vanishes.

It’s going to be a while, so Zuko settles down to waste time on his phone. Another text chimes in. 

There is a moment of surreal silence when he sees his mother’s picture.

She’s calling him.

Does he answer? What would he say? Why was she calling him now? It wasn’t a special event or anything. 

He swallows and hits reject.

First Ozai, now Ursa. After years of radio silence, after having moved out without telling a soul where she was going, after Azula already suspected she had remarried and started over….

What did any of them want from him?

“Zuko! Look, look!”

The delighted tone of Ty Lees voice draws his attention. Katara is standing next to her dressed to the absolute nines.

Ty-Lee has always had an eye for fashion-ever since she was six, she was playing dress up. There was a kind of talent to those things that Zuko respected, even if he didn’t fully understand it. She’d applied that to Katara with eerie accuracy. Her shirt was blue, cut just at her navel, and the shade was dark enough to set off the leather jacket she was wearing. Mostly, it was the casual confidence with which Katara was standing.

His stomach feels faintly like it’s spinning.

“Admit it,” Katara says with a grin. “She made me look like a Kpop extra.”

He speaks, tragically, without thinking.

“You look beautiful.”

Katara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Perhaps he’s imagining the faint flush in her cheeks.

“Gee, thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for sticking with me :)

**Author's Note:**

> I made the executive decision that Ty Lee, Mai and Azula are all gay and also in love. Gotta live up to my username somehow.


End file.
